Page 65 of Sassy Love
He’s my peer. My competition. My rival.
He may have started as my enemy, but I guess somewhere along the way I’ve downgraded him to just the guy who is trying to steal my place at Serenity. Not the oxygen from my lungs.
Is it my place?
Should it be his?
Urgh, this is why I don’t have friends. Don’t do people, period. Mills being the only exception, of course.
Lawson crosses his arms as goosebumps cover his skin.
“Sorry, I’ll let you get dressed.” I wander from the bathroom and slip my own day clothes on. After the tripwire of whatever it was called this morning, I needed a change of clothes. Who would have thought dancing around the bungalow to your favorite Ariana Grande song would be so distracting you’d end up in your underwear in front of...
Lawson Rawlins.
I swallow. Hard.
Fuck. There’s not a professional boundary we haven’t crossed now. He’s almost seen me naked. Seen me in my underwear. Watched me sleep, no doubt. Witnessed my fears and been present while I bared my soul. I don’t know anyone else on this earth who has ever had that privilege.
Not even Mills.
Was this what Serelle was trying to do here?
Break down our walls?
I guess in a few days, I can ask her.
The city bustles around me as I slip out of the train station and march for the Serenity building. Outside is a gathering of women and children, the doors to the building still locked.
As they should be this early. The sun has barely made it up over the horizon.
Luckily for three mothers with pale, drawn faces and worry etched over their features that I’m guessing would look beautiful in any other situation, I have a key.
“Morning, ladies.” I give them my best smile.
One hugs her daughter into her side. The others barely pay me any heed as they look anywhere but at the corporate woman letting them into the sanctuary. Unlocking the enormous double doors, I push one open and stand to the side. I have no idea what happens now, only that they all look like they could use a hot cup of tea and a shoulder to cry on.
The mother and daughter, their clothes soiled and a small backpack on the mother’s shoulder, enter first. It’s only as they walk inside that I see the discoloration on the woman’s cheek.
Oh my god.
The others wander inside, moving through the foyer where I usually take a left and ascend to the upstairs offices, some heading for the bunks and some for the small sitting area littered with vibrant cushions. Nobody speaks. I take in their clothes, their hair, their sallow and brave faces as they settle in. Have they been here all night?
Just the way Mills would have been.
Scared.
Alone.
Vulnerable.
Fucking unacceptable.
I cling to the door with one hand, fighting back the emotion unraveling with every second I stand here watching them. Remembering why I came in early—to get a head start on the work I missed during the last week at the resort—I push from the door. I’m ready to pad upstairs when something tugs on my pants.
Startled, I look down to find a small girl. Big eyes peer up at me. She has messy blonde hair splayed over a jacket and a dirty yellow dress underneath, finished with gum boots. “Please, miss. Can you help my mommy?”
I squat, bringing my gaze eye level with hers. “What’s wrong honey, where’s your mommy?”
